throwing rocks in a house made of rocks. where everything is an after thought. sorta. and nothing we do makes a difference and all of our actions bring about the exact same effects. just more rocks scattered about. and which one did you throw anyway? and which one did you hit? what did they look like before that? and why do my hands feel so swollen and why do my eyes hurt so much? like i’ve been staring into the sun all day while sticking my hands into a hornets nest and maybe poking the queen. 85 inside and out at 9:40pm and it’a just too damn hot no matter how short my sleeves are so making it quickly is actually more important to meeting my goal than actually making it to my goal…if that makes any sense at all. and if not then you’re not me and you didn’t just roll out of bed and you aren’t still disoriented a little even though “just rolling out of bed” equates to some where within the last forty minutes and you can’t still hear the alarm ringing loud as fuck in what amounts to your basically hollow skull. you’re also probably not sore in every movable part of your body but you can’t go bitch to anyone cuz not only do they not care but right now there isn’t anyone. if you’re not me you don’t feel like you have an ear infection and you can wait to walk into the 38 degree freezer you call home for hours on end six or seven days a week. it feels like somone kicked me in the bridge of my nose and set me on fire. this is waking up. this is a nap. this is a reason to leave a party where you fell asleep. this is a reason to have insomnia or try to give yorself insomnia with as much coffee as you can get in your system which you can’t tell but may or may not make it all worse or better, all the coffee. and the ear ache is not going away. and people’s voices are like being struck by lightening in a bad way. and really the thought of people in general is close to the worst thing. ever. to be alone and cold is all that comes to mind. it is normally one of my recurring thoughts anyway, but upon waking up it is the only thought, the only comfort. sorta.
